> Author’s note: It’s obvious Chet Sterling has to be defeated in the end of Scar Tissue. This is both an AU where he succeeds, and a revival of Evolving Worlds: Catalyst’s Awakening. It is not canon to Scar Tissue.
> This is The Evolving World.
3145
Resources on Xeter are pretty much nil. Chet Sterling has commanded several fleets to explore and greed all the raw, natural resources that other planets had to offer. Gemini Sterling is dead. Milo Booker is dead. Zara Grey is dead. No more good exists within the boundaries of Xeter, and it’s every man for themself. And in the midst of it all? Bandits, OrionTech enemy ships, and random people like me who just want to get on with our days.
There are no heroes here. There are no villains. It all depends on whose side you are on.
The world has evolved, and with it the nature of man. I don’t want to be there to witness it.
I: Point Blank[]
It was just about as normal as a day could be here on Chethither, with OrionTech enemy ships and bandit vessels warring on overhead against Sterling Enterprise warfleets as blood spilled across the perfectly dull gray mountainous terrain.
I spend my days operating a dig station, a machine that digs for raw ores while enduring the screams of troops and bandits, and the gunshots. The idea of ‘peace and love’ pretty much died out when OrionTech and Sterling went to war against each other, and that’s why about one or two or a couple thousand people die each day. I do say, I regret joining Sterling’s campaign. But it’s better than being a soldier.
I slowly looked around my humble workshop. The gunshots had finally stopped, and two other bandits were messing around about 10 feet away. Meanwhile, the engineers were engineering, and two soldiers were supervising. What idiots. Imagine there not having attacks every two minutes! Suddenly, my watch beeped.
Your dig station is full. You have obtained:
- > 2.5k cryptore
- > 1.2k ethereum
- > 2.3k cobalt
- > 5.9k nickel
- > 586 cardanum
Your outer casing is slightly damaged.
“Outer casing… slightly damaged…? OH GOODNESS -” I mumbled before screaming as several bandits made their way into my workshop. Quickly sending all my spoils to the teleporter to send to boss man Sterling, I ducked down as a gunshot fired, sending sparks and scraps of metal flying as a sad power down sound effect played, like byewwwwww. The teleporter had broken. Gosh darn it.
The first wave of bandits in blood-stained smocks came from a barracks some 25 feet away. They were dressed in casual clothes as opposed to the chafing suits they normally wore. I groped around for anything that could be of use, before settling on a glowing smoky spatula that was on the countertop, before subsequently burning a mark on their face.
Smash! Thud. Crash! Thud. With each accurate swing, one bandit fell. Then the second wave came and fell. Third? Came and fell. Engineers? Sliced them to pieces with my machete, which I kept on my wall adjacent. I called him Teremy. As for the soldiers, crushed under the dig station’s core drill. They slumped into the ground, lifeless.
I armed herself with a discarded pistol and a revolver. More soldiers rushed out of the main base of operations to find some of the best recruits dead, and a college-age young adult standing in the carnage, covered in crimson blood.
"Freeze!" the first one said as he brandished his shotgun in my face. I shrugged it off, before shooting him point-blank.
Bang! The soldier fell, groaning in pain from the shot in the heart before going completely limp. Score one for James, which is my name since I haven’t told you that yet.
The second one was nowhere to be seen. I strolled confidently to the exit. Big mistake. A gunshot banged, and my leg exploded into excruciating pain, blood oozing plentifully from my shin. I fell on my knees, crawling slowly to the sniper post.
The soldier was definitely terrified. A half-dead 22-year-old crawling over to him would do that. I grabbed my machete and climbed up the ladder, having ripped off a piece of my sleeve with my teeth and made a tourniquet on my bleeding leg.
"Why-" Bang. "-won't-" Bang. "-you-" Bang. "DIE?!" The soldier screamed as he desperately kept shooting: he was out of ammunition.
"Adrenaline," I croaked. “There’s no heroes or villains in this world. You chose this side. It was the wrong choice,” I grinned. Years of avoiding bullets had broken me, one way or another. I let the fear sink in… before I shot him in the stomach.
There was supposed to still be one bandit left. And my dig station was now completely broken from the damage. Boss wouldn’t be happy about that…
And then if my leg wasn’t enough, blood spurted out of my stomach as a knife blade materialised in my back. God freaking dang it. The last bandit removed the blade as blood continued to flow plentifully.
My body started to glow blueish green as I fell back, the bandit stepping out of the way to avoid the weight of the oncoming crash. A flash of white light, and then black.
II: Crossfire[]
Darkness.
It squirmed in entropy, waiting for something to change. It felt nothing and everything all at one time.
The light was birthed from the dusk of the darkness. The light was not something it believed to be possible, yet the light stood devilishly on the cusp of creation.
It closed upon itself, unable to bear the pain of the light.
It waited an unimaginable amount of time for the pain to subside. Once it felt the presence of life, it could not bear to be closed any longer.
It looked down upon what had formed in its stead, and it was not pleased.
This was the beginning of the end, as it always had to be.
…
“OW MY BACK MY LEG EVERYTHING HURTS” I shrieked as the two men with their backs facing me swiftly turned around.
“OKAY GEEZ WHO WAS THAT WHAT WAS THAT OMG?!” one of the men yelled in retort. He appeared to be a medic, holding blood-stained gauze in his hands and what appeared to be a grenade launcher that spat out toilet paper: he also looked considerably younger that the man beside. My leg and back weren’t hurting as much anymore: gingerly, I touched the bullet wound in my leg and winced. It had been bandaged.
Chet Sterling was the other man. His collected expression remained unwavering on his face as he turned around, an expression of blankness on his face.
The other man had a nervous, high-schooler voice that complemented his looks: fresh out of university, hasn’t a clue what to do. He was in loose clothing, completely contrasting Sterling’s black woven blazer with the Sterling crest sewed into it, his navy blue tie, and his combed hair with way too much hair gel put into it.
“So, uhh… good to meet you. My name’s Patrick. I-I’m a medic, at least in training. I hope I did a good job on your leg there. Looked like you needed it.”
Patrick’s gaze met mine. “Cool. My name’s James. I,” I explained as I dusted myself off, “am a dig station operator. I mine crypto in the literal sense, and I spend my days dodging bullets and bandit raids.”
“It seems this time you should have spent $49.99 on a boost giving you 50% luck and 20% shield against bandit attacks,” Patrick made a jab at mobile games. “I used to play these games all the time back on Xeter. Good times. Now I spend my days… dodging bullets and bandit raids. Hey, we’re not too different!”
I snickered before Chet Sterling grabbed the both of us.
“Enough chat. We have business to get onto. It appears your foolhardiness has gotten a very expensive piece of valuable equipment - two pieces of valuable equipment broken. Clearly, the environment is not treating you well. I have 2 more recruits for you to guide. You are no longer an operator! You are an engineer and will aid on the battlefield. Someone else will take your place.”
“Wait, wait, I can’t be on the battlefield, I can’t! You do realise you’re basically sending me to my death, aren’t y-” I argued in futility.
“No matter. OrionTech must be stopped. I must retain my stranglehold on the market, the world, the universe! Remember, time is money, and money is life.”
I shuddered. “A-and i-if you a-aren’t s-strategising ways t-to f-further y-y-your profits… w-what are y-you doing w-with your l-life?”
Sterling smirked. “Well remembered, Elliott.”
“James.”
“Now, let me introduce you to your new allies.”
III: Unorthodox Allies[]
Patrick ushered me over to a different sector, comforting me.
“Don’t worry. We can introduce you to your new friends tomorrow. You need sleep. Rest. It’s been quite the long day, the soldier bunks are over here.”
As I pulled the blanket over myself, I slowly thought what genuine scheiße I’d gotten myself into. I missed the good old days of Xeter. Sterling wasn’t as annoying then.
I didn't have any dreams. Good. Dreams were horrible nightmares in disguise, anyway. I could have an amazing dream and find out someone else did that thing while I was sleeping and I was left out. Or I could just have a plain and simple nightmare, where everything’s all icky and you want to wake up, but you’re too tired to.
Dreamless sleep was really underrated.
Now that I think of it, yesterday could have been a dream. I’m still back in my dig station base, snug in my bed. My leg’s fine. I dreamed that a young medic named Patrick became friends with me and Chet Sterling yelled at me. Everything’s as it was.
But when I woke up (groggily as always, ready for another day of pain), the room was still steely and cold. Patrick was snoring away in his bed, also groggily as always.
“Patrick. Wake up. It’s 7:36.”
Still Patrick kept snoring.
“Patrick?”
Snore.
“PATRICK”
“OH MY GOD AGAIN WITH THE SCREAMING WHAT IS UP WITH YOU AND SCREAMING J”
I cleared my throat. “It’s 7:36. We’re supposed to wake up at 6.”
“We wake up at 8, J.”
“Oh. Wait did you just call me J?” I questioned, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah. It’s a cool nickname, is it not?” Patrick smiled. I shrugged and smiled back. “Come on. Time for breakfast,” I motioned as Patrick rushed for the door.
In the cafeteria, Chet Sterling, Patrick, and two other people were sitting by the table, a boy and a girl. Patrick eagerly waved towards me, while Chet simply stared. Unsettling. The other people were friendly enough as it seemed.
"Hi," I stated nonchalantly.
One of them looked at me, then smiled. "Hey kid! This mission's gonna be particularly hard for beginners, but I'm assuming you've been doing this for a decent amount of time by now. Still, keep your guard up. Bandits are slippery. I’m John. John Frusciante, and the girl’s Becca. Now, where was I? Yes. Bandits.” He winced and pointed to a scar that looked disturbingly like someone had stabbed his shoulder as if to prove his point.
"Noted. Thanks for the tip, dude. Now, where are your weapons?" I smirked.
"Hold it, kid. We need to eat first. It's better to go on a mission full rather than being hungry." And with that, Frusciante left to go somewhere. Probably to gather rations.
Becca sipped a cup of coffee. “Black espresso is always the best. No additives, and all of the caffeine. BOOM! Energy rush.”
“You do realise that caffeine only suppresses the hormone that keeps you naturally tired, right? Doesn’t give you energy.”
“Boo,” Becca disregarded the comment playfully and finished her black espresso.
Chet Sterling gave us a sharp look. “Enough with the playfulness. We have to get to business. Zodiac and Frusciante have been informed of our first mission, hence why Frusciante can choose to skip this current briefing. Your main mission is to go to OrionTech headquarters-” This was 5 km south. “- and infiltrate their main server room, that holds an AI that could potentially put an end to our operations.”
Becca's eyes widened with excitement. "So, we're going undercover as tech specialists to retrieve the data or sabotage their operation?"
“Exactly.”
Becca stared.
“By that I mean both, you numbskull,” Chet Sterling yelled.
“Don’t call me a numbskull!” Becca yelled in defense.
"Alright, let's do this. We'll gather the information, take down the AI, and ensure our mission's success. Sterling Enterprise is counting on us."
I left the table as Chet Sterling smiled and dematerialised to his office as Patrick and Zodiac followed. Zodiac seemed to lead the way, as Patrick went behind. We exited the door…
which slammed shut behind us. Oh great.
IV: Checkmate[]
Becca and Frusciante were talking to each other, playfully arguing. "Come on, John. Let the kid eat what he wants! He could use some caffeine," she joked as he held a mug of coffee in Frusciante’s face.
"No. What he needs is nutrition, something that can benefit her in the long term," Frusciante responded as he held up a tray with an apple and pancakes on it, as well as green tea.
"Um...I'll have both, if that's okay with you," I sheepishly murmured.
Becca and Frusciante flinched as Aria grabbed the coffee and the tray Frusciante was holding. "How'd you find your way here so fast?!" Becca asked, incredulous. “When we left we were like miles ahead of you!”
"I'm a good tracker," I simply responded as I ate.
I quickly ate and drank everything before grabbing a wet wipe and wiping my utensils clean. I then left the clean tray on a trash can nearby.
"Where are my weapons?" I asked. “I left Teremy, my machete, back at the base.”
Frusciante reached for a sheath on his back and gave me a short sword. It was 24 inches long, with a worn black leather hilt. The blade itself was made of what appeared to be steel. In my hand, it felt relatively light… almost as if I could successfully dual wield with it.
“Thanks!” I smiled as I got in the van. Patrick followed and sat in the back seat, reading a book. Cute.
Meanwhile, Becca took out a lighter and a cigarette in her hand, sitting in the shotgun seat. Frusciante was immediately on her case for chain-smoking. I was starting to notice the stereotypes at this point: Frusciante was the experienced guy and the health nut, and Becca was the carefree person who just went along with the flow.
“In front of a child, no less!” Frusciante scolded.
“Actually, I’m 21.”
“Unhelpful.”
Becca chuckled. “The kid doesn’t mind! Doesn’t he?”
I merely wrinkled my nose in disgust. Mom and Dad always tried to steer me away from smoking, and I hated the smell. Becca grumbled and tossed the cigarette out the window, and her lighter stayed in her pocket.
The ride went relatively smoothly, at least until we reached an OrionTech bandit hideout. The hideout was nothing special. Maybe a few garbage fires here and there, empty and half-full liquor bottles, and a wooden stake in the ground, with someone tied to it.
“Come on, just get my hands untied, and I'll maybe spare half of your little gathering here!” the girl who was tied to the stake grunted as a Bandit laughed.
She tilted her head to face the garbage fires, and I squeaked in alarm. Her hair was drenched in a mixture of sweat and dried blood. She had red eyes with gold and brown mixed in from all the scars on her face. But what shocked me the most was… before I had made the stupid decision of working for Sterling, she was my colleague. We were assistant teachers for history class back on Xeter.
Her eyes went wide when she saw me, but she said nothing before mouthing one word: Hide.
The bandit's gaze lingered on our location for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if he sensed something amiss. My heart raced, fearing that our presence would be discovered and our plan jeopardized. But just as the tension reached its peak, the bandit shrugged and turned his attention back to the woman.
"Enough games," he growled, his voice filled with menace. "Tell me what you know, or your fate will be far worse than a mere stake."
She maintained her composure, her eyes flickering with determination. "I will NOT betray my principles or the innocent people who will suffer because of your little gang's actions," she retorted defiantly.
The bandit's face twisted into a sinister grin. "We'll see about that," he sneered, reaching for a knife at his belt before being b*tch-slapped by the woman, knife flying into the air and grazing the rock we were hiding behind. Becca made an expression that looked like Sheesh, that dude has problems, while Frusciante tried his level best to remain calm. Patrick took note that the situation was serious and closed his book. Meanwhile, I stared at my former colleague in complete and utter awe, as well as the writhing mass of flesh on the floor. I could infer from that that somebody had just been kicked in the groin. The woman winked.
“Yo, Ben! Why was she lookin’ over there?” another bandit noticed.
Whoever the dude interrogating the woman was - Ben, I suppose - got up, face visibly contorted in pain, the expression of which instantly faded as he stared right into my face.
“Shoot. They see us.”
“Point taken.”
Ben held his head high, laughing a laugh so earnest yet so demonic that I had to chuckle too.
Then he brandished his knife.
“Kill them all. Leave no witnesses.”
V: Shadow Games[]
Frusciante leapt out from behind the rock, brandishing a machine gun and rolling with extreme agility towards Ben, who seemed to be the leader, before bashing his stomach in to no avail. Becca threw a bunch of explosives before blowing up 5 Bandits in a row.
The explosion sent shockwaves through the hideout, causing debris to fly in every which way. The bandits who were caught in the blast were taken by surprise, some of them being thrown off their feet while others were shredded by shrapnel. Frusciante used the distraction to his advantage, swiftly dodging Ben's knife and delivering a swift kick to his chest.
Meanwhile, Becca moved throughout the field with remarkable speed and precision, expertly throwing explosives with deadly accuracy. The bandits were caught off guard, scrambling to find cover as the explosions continued to wreak havoc across the skies.
Patrick was still reading his book, mindlessly shooting healing rays in random directions in hopes of rejuvenating someone who was injured, hopefully on his side because it was a major oversight on Chet’s part to make sure healing apparatus would not affect enemies - before his book had a hole blasted clean through it. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows lay, a battered and bruised mess, on the floor, with magma oozing out of it.
Suddenly, Patrick entered a crazed mode, looking out for whoever committed this horrifying act of cruelty. Ben had grabbed Frusciante by the collar, and had a wand in his hand. A wand?! How long had it been since I had seen that? Chet Sterling definitely spoke of them, but only as inferior tools beneath the superior technology that he had to offer. The revolver was smoking, and it was apparent that he had destroyed the copy of Harry Potter.
“M-my book…” Patrick whimpered before screaming, “HOW COULD YOU?! SNAPE HAD JUST DIED! YOU MONSTER! YOU LEFT ME ON A CLIFFHANGER! THAT WAS THE ONLY COPY I HAD! HOW AM I TO KNOW WHO WINS IN THE END-”
“News flash, newbie! Voldemort dies in the end, an idiot would be able to predict that! Now, come up here and fight like a bra-” Ben taunted before Patrick lunged at him, firing a healing ray at Frusciante before punching the feces out of the bandit leader as blood flowed plentifully from the nose.
“You getting all of this, J?” Patrick paused to look for me, but I was inching towards the woman tied to the stake, who had just purposefully dislocated her thumb in hopes of dislodging her hand.
“And just what are you doing here, Rachel?”
“J! Where the heck are you?! I’m bashing this dude’s head in! I need some help!” Patrick cried in the distance as my old colleague Rachel ushered me behind her.
“Didn’t expect to see you here, James. Finally caved to the propaganda?” Rachel teased as I untied her. “The dudes here are really tough, both in and out of Sterling Enterprises. Now, where’s my machine gun…”
I examined the battlefield as Rachel prodded me right in a tickle spot. I screamed in shock and laughed uncontrollably as a revolver flew into my hand. Patrick was now beckoning towards me. Rachel followed.
“Ah! Patrick Shardwisp. You’re the medic intern, right? Glad to hear you’re doing your fair share of bludgeoning. Now let me at him!” she screamed before peppering a Bandit’s guts full of lead. How did she get tied up in the first place if she was this good at combat?
Ben seethed. “I will not die at the hands of an intern!”
Patrick laughed. “You won’t. But you will at his.”
Ben's face contorted with rage as he lunged at Patrick with his wand raised, but before he could reach him, Frusciante sprang into action. With lightning-fast reflexes, Frusciante intercepted Ben's attack, deflecting the spell with a fire of his machine-gun. How does he do it?! Becca then shot at the bullet, forming a white-hot lump in the sky. She pulled out her lighter and lit the bullet, as it flew straight into the course of Ben’s fragile cranium.
“No! I swear to goodness this is unfair! All my colleagues are dead or dying! This is a 5v1!”
“This is not a 5v1,” Patrick chuckled. “This is a bloody murder.”
He set his healing gun from Heal Mode to Lifesteal Mode, before aiming it straight at Ben and firing. Ben’s life-force, his very essence seemed to flow out of his body. Ben tried to grab it in futility, as the light in his eyes faded and he slumped to the ground.
“Nice one, James! Pretty sweet job, eh?” Patrick called before getting jumped by about three bandits. “Oh, shoot.” And he shot straight through one of their guts. The remaining bandits all fled the scene.
“Cowards. Actually, why am I mocking them? Makes the job easier for us,” I laughed. I grabbed the keycard off a desecrated corpse and wiped off the blood, before scanning it. “We can take what we get.”